In Three Parts by Erin Mullin
I. A Distant but Constant Ringing
The dissolution of [something] caused a great, great deal of internal panic. Alarms going off like mad and catching, yes, catching tinnitus, which I didn’t even know could be caught.
II. Something about Yellow Shag
Stacked from the yellow shag carpet to the burdened ceilings were baskets. Baskets in which there were more baskets and baskets inside of those baskets. How could this even be? I always wondered who bought these kinds of baskets and now I know that it was you. The feeling it leaves behind is one rather difficult to articulate but it is undoubtedly not a positive one. Fire alarms shut off in this house so no one knew for some time just how bad it was here. Fields of silk flowers, mostly purples and blues, cover the family room couch but no one really cares about that.
III. Tales of Weather
Basically the most relatable thing in the proverbial book. No fear of offending when you talk about weather. I’m talking now of a semi-bright Spring late afternoon, with clouds, yes, clouds. An imposing, suffocating energy these clouds carry through the blue, looking over full and ready to burst, surprising the soil and the tulips, which I had forgotten until now was always your favorite flower.